Power Tools and Pearls
by cosmogirl7481
Summary: She didn't want to dwell in the past anymore. She'd always been a woman of action, and action was exactly what she needed. Bella was going to renovate her house, and maybe she could renovate her life in the process. Winner of Host's and Judge's Choice for the Dirty Talkin' Edward Contest.


Bella was the kind of woman who wore twin-sets and pearls while making dinner. She was the kind of woman who wore Chanel No. 5 every day – a spritz behind each ear and one generous spray for both her wrists – even though it had never been her favorite perfume. She was also the kind of woman who valued the way the lines on her carpet were still perfectly perpendicular from the last time she vacuumed. And she appreciated the way a bottle of Barolo paired sublimely with her flawless mushroom risotto.

In fact, from the outside of her perfect suburban home in the perfect gated community, anyone would assume that Bella had the perfect life.

It certainly appeared so.

But that's the thing about appearances.

They're often quite deceiving.

.

.

It was on a Saturday when Bella married Jacob. He put a platinum band on her left ring finger right next to the 2.2 carat diamond solitaire he'd placed there a year earlier.

It was on a Sunday when they attended an open house of the home they would immediately fall in love with, then purchase and build their blissful life.

It was a Monday two years later that she found out conceiving a child was improbable.

It was on a Tuesday when Bella realized it had been over five months since she'd made love to her husband – and five years since their lovemaking had been anything other than perfunctory.

It was on a Wednesday when she found out that Jacob had been having an affair with his executive assistant, Jane. A woman fifteen years her junior with blonde hair, a tight ass, and as Jacob crudely put it – a tighter pussy.

On Thursday, he moved out.

And on the second Friday of the very next month, Bella was served divorce papers at the front door of her perfect house, shattering what had never turned out to be her blissful life.

.

.

It had been almost two years since her divorce. She'd kept the house and half of everything else. But the house was big, and it turned out that everything about it and inside it reminded her of Jacob. And that just wouldn't do. Bella looked at her reflection in the mirror of her vanity, and as she applied another thin layer of moisturizing anti-aging cream, she made a decision.

She didn't want to dwell in the past anymore.

She'd always been a woman of action, and action was exactly what she needed.

A project.

An achievable goal.

Bella was going to renovate her house, and maybe – just maybe – she could renovate her life in the process.

.

.

.

9:11 am

The contractor was late. This didn't sit well with Bella as she had always been extremely punctual. After all, it was simply the polite and well-mannered thing to do. And she was going to tell him exactly that when he finally arrived, if she didn't decide to fire him altogether.

Seventeen minutes later, her doorbell chimed. She stood at the head of her dining room table, and after brushing crumbs that weren't really there from the front of her wool pants, she carried her teacup and saucer to the kitchen. She rinsed them both before placing them in the dishwasher. And then she washed and dried her manicured hands.

She took her time.

He'd made her wait twenty-eight minutes. He could stand at the door for a few more.

When she finally opened the door, she was greeted by his backside. And what a backside it was. Slim-fitting jeans hung low on his hips, and a grey t-shirt stretched tight over lean muscles that were clearly defined underneath the cotton.

She might have lost her breath.

But if she did, you would never have known it.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice equally poised as her posture.

"I think I'm supposed to be helping you," the man said, turning around.

His smile was easy, just like his stance. And his green eyes sparkled in the sunlight. His red hair that wasn't exactly red looked tousled – almost like he'd just rolled out of bed – but just like the rest of him, it wasn't exactly unpleasing to the eye. And she wondered just what kind of contractor she'd offered the job. In fact, he looked far too young to even have a real job. Much less own his own business.

"Really?" she asked, arching her meticulously shaped eyebrow. "Because I was under the impression you were supposed to be helping me thirty-three minutes ago."

He had the decency to look embarrassed.

"Yeah, about that…"

"Yes. About that," she interrupted. "If you hope to continue this working relationship, I hope you will respect that like you, I have important things to do." Of course, the most important thing Bella had planned to do that day was change the linens on her bed. However, he didn't need to know that. "If you think this will be a problem, you can just leave now. I'm certain that I can contract someone who can come to work on time and as scheduled."

She knew she sounded harsh, but she was through with being treated poorly. Especially by men. And after everything she'd endured over the last several years, she was determined that it would never happen again.

She didn't care how attractive he was.

Even though he was extremely attractive.

He pushed his hands in his pockets. "You're absolutely right, ma'am. I shouldn't have been late. But please don't do anything rash. I've looked over the renovations you're proposing, and for what it's worth, I think I'm the best man for the job. And I can promise you I won't be late again."

He seemed sincere.

But promises didn't hold a lot of weight where Bella was concerned.

"Save your promises for your girlfriend, Mr. Cullen. I don't need them. What I need is to renovate my home. And for you to come to work on time."

Bella didn't like the way he looked at her for what seemed like several moments too long. It made her twitchy and nervous. And then he smiled. It should have relaxed her. He definitely seemed relaxed even though she'd basically just threatened to fire him.

"So does that mean we still have a deal?"

"Yes. We still have a deal."

"Thank you, Mrs. Swan."

"Ms. Swan. Not Mrs." Bella couldn't stop the correction from leaving her mouth. "I'm not married."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I just assumed."

"Well, you assumed wrong."

She didn't say anything further.

"I'm gonna go get my stuff from the truck," he told her, turning to walk down the steps. She was embarrassed when he turned back around and caught her watching. But from the look on his face, he didn't seem to be embarrassed at all. "By the way, Ms. Swan, you assumed wrong, too. I don't have a girlfriend. So, I guess I'll just keep my promises to myself."

He strode to his truck, and for the first time that morning, Bella was left speechless.

.

.

.

Edward hadn't meant to be late on his first day of work. And he definitely hadn't intended on pissing off his boss before they'd even had a real conversation. But the truth was he'd been working late the night before, and he'd slept right through his alarm.

When he'd pulled up to the house, he was certain he had the wrong address. Mostly because the house was flawless and didn't appear to need any work done. He'd expected a bit of a fixer-upper. Especially given the amount of work the client had proposed on the phone.

What he didn't expect was the woman who answered the door.

She was beautiful. And not in a way that was blatant, but she sure as hell wasn't lacking in any way. Yeah, she was a bit older, but that had never bothered him. Truth be told, Edward had always had a bit of a thing for older women.

When he was five, he got in trouble for chasing a third grader, Angela Weber, on the playground. He pushed her down under the jungle gym and kissed her on the lips. She tasted like apple juice – which was much better than the dirt he tasted when she pushed his face into the ground.

He'd lost his virginity the summer after his freshman year in high school. He was fifteen, and Jessica Stanley was eighteen. She rode his cock in the backseat of her father's Buick – for the entire two and half minutes that he'd lasted.

And then there was Tanya. She was a bartender in his college town. She was twenty-seven and never once seemed to mind that he was only nineteen. She bought him beer and taught him the pleasures of oral sex. Giving and receiving. And ever since, he'd never met a pussy he couldn't he couldn't get off with his tongue.

Or his fingers.

Or both.

Yes, Edward had always had a thing for older women.

And after seeing Bella Swan standing in her doorway wearing a baby pink sweater that pulled across what appeared to be an ample set of tits – not to mention her long dark hair and pouty lips on a mouth that was downright fuckable – he knew that his preferences hadn't changed.

Not in the twenty years since he'd kissed Angela.

Edward was nothing if not consistent.

.

.

.

Bella stood in her kitchen looking out the window after she idly wiped down the sink again. Edward had been taking measurements all morning, and she'd tried to stay out of his way. But there was only so much she could do – or pretend to do – since there was nothing out of place inside her house. She decided to make iced tea.

She pulled a few tea bags from a tin in the top drawer before retrieving some fresh mint leaves from the refrigerator. She went to task on boiling the water and as soon as the kettle whistled, she opened the cabinet to pull out the pitcher. She almost had it, but Bella was a petite woman. So, she pushed up on her toes to give her the extra height she needed. And that's when she felt the warm press of Edward's body against her back. His hand brushed hers as he easily lifted the pitcher. And even though it wasn't his intention, it was easily the most sexually charged thing to happen to her in two years.

That was until he leaned in and whispered hotly in her ear, "Allow me."

She couldn't tell for sure, but it seemed like he lingered there, pressed up against her for several beats too long. She could feel his breath against her neck, his hard chest against her back. And for a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to imagine what might happen if she pressed her bottom back against his…

No.

Bella gripped the counter instead. She counted to three and composed herself before she turned around. And when she did, he'd already stepped back, but he looked at her with a glint in his eye that forced her to wonder if he knew what she'd been thinking.

"Making some tea?" he asked, grinning as he held out the glass pitcher.

"What gave it away?" she responded, ignoring the breathy voice that didn't even sound like her.

"Well, I would say it was the teabags, but I think that might be a little too obvious. So, we'll just go with the whistling teapot."

She couldn't stop staring. And she licked her lips – only to make sure her mouth was still closed.

"It still is, you know?"

"What?"

"The teapot." His grin widened. "It's still whistling."

She shook her head as her mind snapped back into focus. "I know that."

"Are you sure? Because you still haven't turned off the heat." He leaned back against the island in the center of the kitchen. It was infuriating how relaxed he looked when Bella felt anything but. "I could do it for you if you want."

"No. No, thank you, Mr. Cullen."

She immediately walked to the stove and turned off the flame. Her hands were trembling and she wondered how she was going to make tea with him standing right there.

Watching her.

He was definitely watching her.

Even with her back turned, she could feel the weight of his stare.

"Edward," he said, his voice smooth and warm.

"What?"

He walked over and placed the pitcher beside her.

"My name is Edward. Mr. Cullen is my father. We're going to be working together for a while, and in just a few minutes, we are going to enjoy a glass of iced tea together. So, if you don't mind, I'd appreciate it if you called me Edward."

"What about what I appreciate?" Bella asked, suddenly feeling collected and bold.

His green eyes darkened, even as the sun poured in through the window. His lips turned up in a devilish smile.

"I'd love nothing more than to talk about what you appreciate. We can do it over tea," he said assuredly. "You were planning on inviting me to have a glass of tea, weren't you, Bella?"

He said her name – almost as if he were challenging her to correct him.

She didn't.

"Of course."

"Of course, what?" He quirked an eyebrow and shot her a knowing look.

"Of course, Edward."

"Better," he murmured, causing a flush to cover her skin. Suddenly, the sweater she was wearing seemed too hot…too much. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"No, I suppose it wasn't."

"Good. I'm gonna go wash up while you finish making the tea."

And like nothing had happened, he walked away. Bella stood there, wondering if she'd imagined the whole interaction. And then she was left to wonder what it meant if she hadn't.

.

.

.

Edward raked his hand through his hand the moment he shut the door to her downstairs bathroom. He'd told her it wasn't that hard, but the truth was he was definitely hard. Or at least getting there. He could feel his dick growing in his pants.

"Fuck," he whispered harshly.

He didn't know what he was thinking. Actually, he knew. All thought had left him when he'd walked into the kitchen and saw her bent over – gorgeous round ass up in the air – getting something from the fridge. He couldn't help but wonder if the frigid temperature was hardening the nipples of the woman he was starting to believe wasn't as frigid as she wanted him to believe.

And he just couldn't help himself when the opportunity to press up against her presented itself. But that was problematic. Especially once he'd done it and could feel her curves pressed against him, could smell the clean scent of her shampoo, the subtle hint of her perfume. And the perfect moment when her breath hitched…and then stopped altogether.

Edward might have been a simple man.

But he sure as fuck wasn't a stupid one.

She was turned on.

He reached down and squeezed his dick through the soft denim of his pants. He gripped it hard, almost as if he was pissed that his fist was nothing compared to what her mouth would feel like – wet and warm and wrapped around him.

Or her pussy.

He washed his hands because he sure as fuck couldn't piss in this state. And when he walked slowly back into the kitchen, he saw the glass of tea in a cold travel mug, and Bella leaning over the counter writing something on a piece of paper.

He had an inkling it wasn't a handwritten invitation to dinner.

Although, didn't she just seem like the type who would do that?

And didn't that just make him want her all the more?

"I take it you've gotten all the measurements you need," she said, her tone even and icy like the tea. Not a hint of the soft woman he'd pressed up against a few moments before.

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a smile, not letting her change in demeanor deter him at all. He nodded to the mug on the counter. "I guess no tea then."

"I made you a glass. To go," she said, walking around the island. She placed the travel mug in one hand and pressed the card and a key into his other. "Here is the key to my house."

"And the card?"

"The code to the alarm."

"Damn," he said smirking. "And here I was hoping you'd written me a dirty note."

Her expression wasn't amused, which made it all the more amusing to him. That and the fact that she didn't even acknowledge what he'd said.

"I expect you'll need to come and go as you please. And you won't want to worry about me being here all the time."

"I don't know," he said, "I rather like the idea of you being here while I'm working. And you never know, Bella…you might like having me around."

"What I like or don't like is none of your concern, Edward. Unless it has to do with the renovation."

As much as he wanted her, he could tell that she wouldn't come easily.

And Edward never backed down from a challenge.

Especially because he knew when she finally came, she would come hard.

And repeatedly.

.

.

.

Bella was hot.

She kicked the silk duvet from her body and considered dropping the thermostat several degrees. She rolled over on her side, inching closer to the center of her kingsize bed. The Egyptian cotton sheets were cooler there, but it wasn't enough. Reaching behind her head, she grabbed a pillow and placed it between her legs.

Nothing – not even her own fingers – had been between her legs in such a long time.

She hadn't wanted it.

Hadn't even thought about it.

But all that was different as she lay there thinking about piercing green eyes, lean, toned muscles and a voice that dripped sex.

And the feeling of damp, practical white cotton pressed against her sex told her one thing: she was dripping, too.

Edward Cullen. Her contractor. He'd gotten under her skin. And in the darkness and privacy of her own bedroom, she allowed herself a singular moment to fantasize what it would be like under his.

His naked skin.

His hard body.

His long, swollen…

The shrill ring of her home phone jolted her to her senses. She rolled over awkwardly, the pillow pressing against her in just the right or wrong way. Depending on how you looked at it, of course.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Bella?" His warm voice was even more jarring than the ring.

"Edward?" she asked, feeling the need to cover herself even though she was alone. "It's late. What…why are you calling me at this hour?"

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to… Wait. You sound out of breath. Is everything okay?"

Bella had never been able to lie. At least not effectively or believably.

But she tried.

"I was sleeping. The phone, it…startled me."

"Shit. I mean, I'm sorry," he said, his voice dropping. "You're in bed?"

"People generally sleep in bed, Edward," she said, feeling oddly exposed and vulnerable. It was as if he could see her through the phone – and could tell what she'd been doing.

"I've always been able to sleep anywhere."

"Charming," she said. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I actually didn't mean to call you," he said, and for reasons she didn't care to acknowledge, her heart dropped. "I must have hit your number in my contacts by mistake."

"Well then, don't let me keep you."

Her face flushed red and hot. It wasn't bad enough that she'd been entertaining sexual thoughts about him, now she had to face the fact that – in whatever fashion – he hadn't been thinking of her.

"You're really in bed?" His voice was nothing more than a murmur and it caused her flush to spread down her throat and chest.

"Yes."

"I saw your bed while I was taking measurements in your room today," he said, then paused as if allowing her to imagine him inside her bedroom. "It's a big bed for someone so small."

"Yes," she mused, almost absently. But then she remembered what she was saying and to whom she was saying it. "Well, I'm getting a new one since I'm renovating. Maybe I'll just downgrade to a double."

"Or maybe…" he said, his voice thick like honey. "Maybe you just need someone share it with. Goodnight, Bella. Sweet dreams."

He ended the call before she could respond.

.

.

.

Bella wasn't home when Edward let himself in the next morning. It was just as well. His dick had been painfully hard since he'd heard her sleepy, sexy voice on the phone the previous night.

He'd jerked off to the memory of that voice three times.

And sometime after midnight, he finally fell asleep.

He got straight to work, pushing through the rest of the morning, but by noon he was hungry and thirsty. He went into the kitchen, and much to his surprise, there on the kitchen counter, Bella had left him a note.

_Edward,_

_The rest of the tea is in the fridge along with some sandwiches. _

_And there are muffins on the counter. Feel free to help yourself._

_Enjoy,_

_Bella_

The basket of muffins was nothing short of something his mother would have raved about from Martha Stewart. He'd never really cared about shit like that. God knew the only thing he ever had to eat in his house came from a box in the freezer. But there was something so sexy about the little red and blue gingham napkins that lined the basket, and as he popped one in his mouth he realized – the basket wasn't sexy.

_She_ was fucking sexy.

And she had taken time to make this for him.

Edward knew he was screwed when a blueberry muffin made his dick ache.

He was in the dining room when he heard her come inside. He decided to keep his distance. Not because he didn't want to see her, but because he wanted to give her a chance to settle in somewhere before he approached. That way, it would be harder for her to make a getaway.

Edward got back to work, and while his mind focused on the job at hand, his body was constantly attuned to where Bella was…and where she wasn't. And she definitely wasn't making an effort to come to him. In fact, it seemed as if she was avoiding him altogether.

By the time evening came and the dusk settled to twilight, Edward looked up from his current project unaware of just how much time had passed. But something smelled wonderful. No, not wonderful – something smelled downright divine. He walked into the kitchen where he knew he'd find her. And there she was – bent over once again – pulling homemade bread from the oven.

"That looks amazing," he said.

"Thank you," she said, turning around and giving him the pleasure of seeing her blush. "It's yeast bread. My grandmother's recipe."

"I'm sure it's delicious," he said, stepping closer. "But I wasn't talking about the bread."

He delighted in the way her brown eyes widened before she looked down, causing her long lashes to settle on her pink cheeks. And feeling bolder than was probably smart, he reached and touched her chin, tilting her head back and forcing her to look him in the eye.

"You've been avoiding me today," he said, smiling. "But I'm prepared to forgive you if you're prepared to invite me to stay for dinner."

"And if I'm not?"

He moved his hand back, touching her neck. His thumb stroked softly until he found her racing pulse.

"Then I guess you'll have to convince me to forgive you some other way," he said, leaning in. He waited for her to pull away, and when she didn't, he continued, "I'm open to suggestions."

.

.

.

Bella couldn't breathe, couldn't think. He was too close, too beautiful…and definitely too young. And while she'd been out of the dating game for longer than she'd ever been in it – there was no mistaking his intentions. She just couldn't understand why.

But she was willing to find out.

"I guess it's a good thing I was planning to ask you to stay for dinner."

"I don't know," he leaned in closer, his scent – clean and masculine – overwhelming her already overloaded senses. "I was kind of hoping for your other suggestions."

She dipped quickly below his arms, ducking under and around him. She'd been moments from reaching out to touch him, and equally close to letting him touch her.

"Well, you're just going to have to settle for roasted chicken."

She wiped her damp palms on her apron, and walked around to the other side of the island. Surely the granite and wood structure would be enough of a barrier between who she should be and what she wanted.

And Bella wanted him.

"I love roasted chicken," he said smiling. "Although I'm never sure what part I like better. The juicy thighs…or the tender, plump breasts."

He eyed her knowingly, wickedly.

Bella had never been good at flirting and innuendo, but as she stood there in her kitchen looking at the young man she had, in fact, been avoiding, she wanted to be. She wanted to think that she could make him feel just a hint of the desire he'd made her feel.

But she wasn't sure she could.

She wasn't sure that this was anything more than a game he was playing to help him pass the time while he worked on her house.

So, Bella did what she always did – she deflected.

"Well, you've been working really hard today," she said, picking up the platter and heading for the dining room. "And you're a growing young man. I'm certain you can afford to have both."

He walked up behind her, placing a large, flat palm on her back. She stopped. Not because she'd reached her destination, but because she couldn't move with the feeling of his hand on her. It felt hot; it warmed and burned her skin even through the layers of her dress and slip.

"Allow me," he murmured, taking the tray from her hands. He walked ahead of her, but turned back around adding, "And Bella?"

"Yes?"

"I plan on having both."

No, Bella had never been good at practicing the art of innuendo.

But that didn't mean she couldn't appreciate someone who was.

Bella sat at the head of the table watching Edward directly to her left. There was something satisfying about watching him eat. It was the way he seemed so grateful, so pleased. With Jacob, dinner had been a chore, something she diligently worked on to ensure it was perfect, only to have him spend fifteen minutes at her perfectly set table while they sat in silence as he read the paper or whatever report he was reading from work.

He never said thank you.

And he certainly never looked across the table at her with eyes that seemed so…hungry.

The way Edward was looking at her now.

"Would you like some more wine?" she asked politely.

"Wine wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

At the sound of his voice, Bella gripped the linen napkin in her lap just to have something to hold on to.

"What did you have in mind?"

She didn't know what she was more afraid of – asking the question or his answer.

"Tell me a little bit about yourself."

That wasn't what she was expecting him to say. She didn't know if she should be relieved that he wanted to have a conversation or disappointed that a conversation was the only thing he had in mind.

"There's nothing much to tell."

"I don't believe you," he said. "Why don't you start with why you're renovating this house? It certainly doesn't need the amount of work you've proposed."

He leaned in – elbows on the table. Normally that would have bothered her. Bella prided herself on impeccable manners. But the moment he leaned in, she forgot about manners, and focused only on his close proximity. He fingered the stem of her half-empty wine glass.

"I suppose I just wanted a change," she said, surprised at her own candor. "And the house seemed like a good place to start. Who knows? Maybe it's the beginning of a mid-life crisis."

"You're too young for a mid-life crisis."

She chuckled. "And you're too young to even know what a mid-life crisis is."

His finger slid up the glass, collecting a drop of condensation. He brought it up to his mouth and she watched, with rapt attention, as he sucked the tip into his mouth.

_God._

"Does my age bother you?"

_Yes._

"No."

"I think it does," he said, picking up her wine glass and drinking the remaining chardonnay in one long gulp. "I think my age bothers you quite a bit. I think you're sitting there in your perfect black dress and pearl necklace wondering how you can be so turned on by someone so much younger. Someone who's wearing jeans and a t-shirt and not suit and tie. Someone who lives in an apartment and not a gated community. Someone who works with his hands just as much as he works with his mind." He placed the glass back on the table so softly it didn't even make a sound, and then he reached out and touched the strand of pearls around her neck with the same finger he'd just had in his mouth. "And I think you're equally terrified and fascinated that I'm the kind of man who wants to take this pearl necklace off you just so I can give you another one."

Edward watched as her eyes widened and turned from silky milk to a decadent dark chocolate. His finger pressed against the rapid pulse on the side of her throat. He couldn't stop himself from saying the words. They were filthy. The act itself would be even filthier. But it was the fact that the words had clearly aroused her that he couldn't handle. Because now, all he could imagine was her naked chest, and what he knew would be her full, gorgeous tits covered in his come.

The thought alone almost sent him over the edge and there wasn't anything – not even his own hand – touching his cock.

"Would you like that?" he asked, pressing it further. He knew he was playing a risky game, that she was probably scared and could easily send him away. But he couldn't help himself. He hoped that he could push her just enough because the promise of what could happen between them was just too fucking good to back down.

"I…I don't know." Her breathy voice was both curious and confused.

It was the curiosity that forced him to continue.

"You don't know what it means?" he asked, smiling at the thought. "Or you don't know if you'd like it?"

She pulled away from him, and he had to fight the urge to grab her and pull her back.

"I…we…we can't," she stammered. "I think you need to stop."

He expected her to stand up and walk away.

But she didn't.

"I don't think you want me to stop. In fact, I don't think you want to think at all." Her little gasp told him he'd hit the nail on the head. She didn't want the responsibility of being in charge of what she wanted. Hell, as uptight as she was, she probably didn't even know how to admit to herself that she actually wanted it. And didn't that just make his cock press painfully against his zipper? "So let me think for you tonight. Let me take all the secret thoughts you're too afraid to admit you have – those dirty fantasies you've probably never even allowed yourself to indulge and make them real."

"I…I…I don't know."

He could see her fear – could see her teetering on the edge of what she knew she _should_ want and what she _actually_ wanted.

But Edward knew what he wanted. And he wanted it enough for the both of them. He just had to make her see that it was okay for her to want it, too.

He reached out under the table until his hand found her bare knee, and holding her eyes with his, he slowly pushed his hand up her skirt along her thigh.

"Wouldn't it feel good, Bella?" he asked, pressing his hand between her closed legs and squeezing the soft flesh he found there. And god, the inside of her thigh was so fucking hot he couldn't help but wonder just how hot her pussy would be. But beyond that, he intended to find out. "If just for one night you didn't have to be in control of anything? Not yourself or your fantasies. If you let me, _I swear to god_ I'll make them good. I can make it so fucking good for you."

Edward had laid everything out on the table between them. All she needed to do was say yes. And he could feel the moment she relented. And in that moment, she released her breath and opened her legs.

"Good girl."

Bella was an educated woman. She was, in fact, quite intelligent. She knew that baking was an exact science, and that club soda got coffee and tea stains out of white linens. She knew that you never shopped at Nordstrom on a Monday because nothing was ever on sale, and that the chemistry of bergamot and vanilla mixed together created a fragrance more intoxicating than any cocktail. Just to name a few.

Yes, Bella knew a lot of things.

And as she parted her legs, she added one more thing to the list. She knew that the feeling of Edward's hand gripping her thigh was the single most erotic thing she'd ever felt. And beyond that, she knew she wanted – no, she needed – to feel more.

"See?" he said, smiling darkly. Only not in a way that felt scary. It felt…freeing. "Doesn't that feel better? Doesn't it feel good to just let go?"

Bella wanted to say yes. In fact, she wanted a lot of things that she'd never really wanted before. Or in Edward's words, never allowed herself to want. And from the look in his eyes, she could tell he already knew the answer.

"How long has it been?" he asked, his voice thick and low.

She struggled to remain upright when just the feeling of him touching her in such an intimate place made her limbs feel like liquid. Like she could easily slip off the chair and melt into a puddle of nothing but need at his feet.

His voice made it worse.

It also made it better.

"I don't know."

"You don't know how long it's been since someone touched you like this?" he asked, his hand slipping just an inch higher. She found herself wanting to do unlady-like things. Like push herself against his hand and writhe and grind against his fingers until she came. It wouldn't take much. "Or you don't remember?"

"No," she told him. "I don't know that anyone has ever touched me like this."

"Well, if you don't know, they haven't," he said so smoothly, she wondered if it was at all possible that he could be feeling the same kind of intense, overwhelming desire she was. Because nothing about her felt calm or collected. And she didn't think she could be smooth if she tried. And then he pushed his hand up even further and said, "And if they haven't, they were stupid. Because right now, I'm just touching your leg. And it's so hot, I can only imagine what it's going to feel like when I touch your pussy. And Bella…" She could feel his fingers digging into her flesh, the little sting of his nails biting her skin. "I'm _going_ to touch your pussy."

"Oh, god."

"I'll bet you're wet, aren't you?" He continued as if she hadn't just whimpered, as if she wasn't just about to die. Because that's what it felt like. "I'll bet if I reached up a little higher and pushed my fingers inside your panties, I'd find you dripping – so soaked you can't even stand it."

Bella felt her face and body flush with embarrassment. Not because he was saying such graphic, vulgar things, but because every single thing coming from his mouth was true.

Edward willed his dick to stand down because watching Bella react to everything he was saying left him wanting nothing more than to pull her out of the chair she was sitting in and fuck her on the pristine Italian dining table. And while that would have been fucking amazing, he wanted it to be better.

It was the way she was licking her lips and parting her little pouty mouth. It was her little whimpers and moans. He didn't even think she knew she was doing it. But he knew if he could keep talking – if he could get her hot enough – she would do anything he wanted.

And he would make her want it, too.

"What are you thinking about right now?"

He could feel her go rigid under his hand, and he squeezed her leg, hoping to ease her nerves.

"I…I don't know." Her hesitation was hot, but only because Edward knew that a woman like Bella – however repressed she imagined she was – had fantasies. And by god, he was going to get her to admit them.

"You don't know?" he murmured, then leaned in across the table. Closer…close enough to feel her breath. Close enough for her to feel his. "Or you don't want to admit it out loud?"

"I can't…"

He could feel her tremble, and he couldn't help but wonder if she would tremble underneath him. Or if she would just be soft and yielding and open up to him like…

"You can," he pressed, because just thinking about her was killing him.

"The way your hand feels on my leg," she said. But really it was just a breath. She just let go of the words like they were air she'd been holding in for way too long.

"And what does it feel like?" He pushed his hand up even higher. He wasn't quite to the edge of her panties, but he was so fucking close. And she was letting go. She was relaxing and letting him in.

"Your hand…it's…it's softer than I imagined."

This made him sit up a little straighter – his eyes fogged over with lust.

"You've imagined my hands?" His voice was rougher than he expected.

He thought back to her on the phone the night before – her sleepy, sexy voice. Had she been thinking about him then? About the way his hands would feel against her?

"Yes," she said, reaching her own hand under her skirt and settling on top of his. And how could that one small thing seem so fucking hot? Only not as hot as when she asked, "Have…have you imagined anything about me?"

"I've had eighty-seven fantasies since we sat down at this table. Do you want to hear one?" He didn't wait for her to answer before he continued, "I've thought about what it would be like to see you on your knees while you sucked my cock. To see you open up while I just slide it in and fuck your mouth in deep long strokes." She gasped at his words, but at the same time, she gripped his hand. And that just made him want to take it even further. "Only maybe you can't take it all because my dick is just so big. So, you have to wrap your hands around the base and squeeze the part that just won't fit. And I have to try not to come because the sight of your lips all red and swollen and sucking me is just too fucking much. But you love it – you love the way it makes me feel and you love seeing that I'm just seconds away from filling your mouth. And then, do you know what you do?"

The flush on her face travelled down to her neck. He could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest. And he wondered if he'd pushed it too far, said too much. But once again, she surprised him by asking, "What?"

"You suck even harder."

Bella wasn't sure she was aware of anything. Not the beating of her heart, not even the way her hand was gripping his.

But it was.

She was holding onto him like he was the only thing solid and real in the world. And not just his hand…his words. While he was speaking, she could visualize everything he was saying. Every dark and dirty act. And it struck her, somewhere around the point that he talked about fucking her mouth…she didn't really hate the idea of it. In fact, if her feelings were a map, hate wasn't anywhere close to the place she was currently residing. Hate would have been on another map altogether. Another city, another state, another country.

Because Bella was right in the middle of desire.

And desire was a foreign land. And she wasn't even sure that she'd ever been there before. At least not like this. Not some debauched land where men fondled her under the table while she spread her legs to allow it, where they talked about sucking hard and fucking deep and, _Jesus_…filling her mouth.

But as she looked into Edward's vivid green eyes – eyes that were dilated and darker than before – Bella knew that she wasn't alone in desire. And it was then that she decided: _When in Rome…_

"Bella?"

"Yes?"

He pulled his hand away, away from her thigh, away from her own clasped fingers, but before she could be upset, he told her, "Get up."

And she did. Without even thinking about it, she rose up on liquid legs she wasn't even sure would hold her.

She could feel his eyes on her as she stood there, and then he continued, "I'm giving you five seconds. Five seconds to choose what you want to do. You can walk into the kitchen and wash the dishes, and I'll know that you don't really want to do this. And I'll leave quietly. You can go back to your perfect life in your perfect house, and we can pretend that none of this ever happened."

She had to grip the edge of the table. "Or?" she whispered, reaching deep down inside and finding the courage to get out her next words. "You said I had a choice, so that would imply that there's another option. What's the other option?"

"Fuck," he hissed so softly, she didn't think he meant to say the word. "You can turn around and go upstairs to your bedroom and stand beside that big bed of yours. But just so you know – if you make that choice – I'll be right behind you. And I fully intend to show you why you need someone to share it with. The choice is yours."

Bella didn't need five seconds.

Her choice was already made.

The dishes could wait.

Edward gripped his dick the moment she walked out the room and headed upstairs. She didn't even hesitate. And how fucking hot was that?

She wanted this.

Wanted him.

And he wanted her more than anything he'd ever known.

He waited just long enough to know that if he didn't take his ass upstairs, he would come in his pants just thinking about what was already there waiting for him. He took the stairs slowly, but two at a time, taking off his t-shirt at the top. And when he reached her bedroom door, it was open. And inside, a soft pink light glowed behind the silhouette of her gorgeous body.

She stood there.

Right beside the bed – just like he'd asked. And he couldn't help but wonder what else he could make her do.

"Take it off," he said, looking at her dead in the eyes. "Lift that dress over your head." She did what he said – again, without question. And as she reached behind her neck, he told her, "Leave those pretty little pearls."

As she uncovered her body, his eyes took in the full swell of her tits just beneath her long dark hair. They were plump and pushed up in a black lacy bra. The dip of her waist and the curve of her round ass. And fuck if she didn't have an ass that a man would want hold onto. Everything about her was so fucking…lush.

"Fuck, baby…your body," he said, dropping his shirt on the floor beside him. "I've been dreaming about a body like yours since I was old enough to know why my dick got hard…and where I was supposed to put it. But looking at you right now…my dick doesn't even know which place it wants to go first."

That got her attention. And he smiled at her wide eyes…her open mouth.

"Where do you want to put it?" she asked. Not even scared, though he knew she probably was. He could tell she was good at hiding her emotions, and he couldn't wait to make her come undone.

"Well, the obvious place to start is your mouth," he said, reaching down and stroking the length of his cock through his jeans, loving the way she watched. "You like that? You like watching? Does a little voyeurism get you off? You wanna watch me stroke my dick? Or do you want me to finish telling you where I want put it?"

Her eyes travelled slowly back up.

"Tell me."

"Well, after you suck my cock – after you get it all slick with your spit – there's always your pussy. What about that? Would you like that? I'll bet I could just slide it right in. But you did tell me it's been a long time."

Her eyes were fogged over and she looked like she was about to collapse on the floor in front of him.

"Oh, god."

"Take off your bra," he rasped, not knowing where all of this was coming from, but knowing that he needed to see even more of her. "Take it off and walk over here to me. Because maybe before any of that, you'd let me fuck those gorgeous tits."

Bella wasn't even sure she was still standing, much less reaching behind to unclasp her bra. Yet, as it fell to the floor, and the chilled, conditioned air brushed her breasts, she knew she must have complied.

And she wasn't just complicit. With every step forward, she sank deeper and deeper into a need to do what he was asking, to take what she'd never even known she wanted.

And then she stood before him, and before he could even say, "Get on your knees," she was dropping to the carpeted floor.

His hands reached for the buckle on his belt and he pushed the denim down. He wasn't even wearing underwear. And he was naked and so big – swollen and hard and slick – and sticking out right in front of her face. So close, she could just –

"That's it, baby," he said above her. "Open that mouth."

Was her mouth even open?

And then he pressed down on the base of his cock, and the tip brushed her top lip before landing on the bed of her tongue. And somewhere between tasting the salty liquid leaking out the end and closing her mouth completely around him, Bella was lost.

Deliriously.

Utterly.

Lost.

"Fuck," he hissed. "Your mouth is so soft and sweet."

She could only focus on the taste of him, the feel of him as she sucked and licked and swallowed. And god, he was so big. And he was saying things – pushing her further. "Yeah, suck that cock, baby. Make me all wet." He thrust his hips, pushing in deeper. Over and over while he grunted and moaned, repeating her name. It was then she remembered his fantasy, his filthy description, so she reached up and pushed his hand away, grabbing his base and squeezing him hard.

And sucking him harder.

Deeper.

Too deep, because then she choked, and frantically, her eyes shot up to meet his.

"Are you serious with this, baby?" he said, easing back. "Are you seriously gagging yourself on my cock?"

He pulled out completely, his thumbs tracing her lips as she panted against his hands. She leaned into her face into his palm, unconcerned with how needy and desperate – how wanton she must have looked.

"Slow down, baby," he said, his voice thick and measured and soothing. "Just breathe."

"I…I thought that was what you wanted."

He tilted her head up until she was looking directly at him.

"I want any piece of you you're willing to give me," he said. "But tonight was supposed to be about making you feel good – what you want. Not my fantasies, sweet girl…_yours_."

The tenderness in his voice caught her off guard. For all the things he'd said – _that_ was the most surprising.

"Why can't it be both?"

The look on his face went from gentle and tender to wickedly intense, and his cock jumped, brushing against her cheek. She didn't have time to process what he was thinking before he said darkly, "Get on the bed."

Edward was losing his fucking mind. He was so damn lost to this woman, he might never recover.

Had she really just done that?

Had she taken his cock to the point of choking?

He'd fucked a lot in his life. He'd had even more blowjobs. But nothing in his past – or god help him, his future – would ever compare to watching Bella suck his cock. She'd sucked it like she was starving. And he was beginning to think that maybe she was.

What motherfucker had been stupid enough to walk away from that?

From her?

He didn't know, but as she stood up, once again showing him a compliance he'd never expected, especially after their first encounter, he knew that he would live up to his promise.

He would make this so fucking good.

He grabbed her, pulling her close and kissing her hard and deep. He didn't allow himself to get lost in the taste of his dick on her tongue. Instead, he pulled back and looked her in the eye and told her, "Right on the edge. I want you right on the edge of your bed."

And damn if she didn't do exactly what he said.

He kicked his pants the rest of the way off as he watched her. And when she was settled – just sitting there waiting on him – he approached.

"I wanna ask you something," he said. Her hands fisted the comforter nervously at her sides as she took in his naked body. "And I don't want some vague, trying-to-be-cute response. I want you to tell me the truth."

"Okay."

"How long has it been?" He leaned forward and grabbed the sides of her panties and slid them down her smooth legs. He didn't look at her pussy – he couldn't – not without losing his fucking mind. "How long has it been since another man has seen you naked? Tasted your pussy? How long has it been since any part of anyone else has been inside you?"

"Over two years."

_Fuck._

_Two fucking years?_

"You're gonna be so tight, baby," he said, unable to control the slight tremble in his voice. "You're gonna feel so good, you know that? You're gonna feel so tight and wet and perfect around my cock."

Her whimper was too much.

"Lean back," he said. She did without question. Her little mound was covered with a patch of perfectly trimmed hair, and he couldn't help but reach down and tug on it just a little. And fuck if it wasn't already saturated. She cried out at the contact, and he dropped down to his knees. Mostly because he was no longer able to stand at the sight of her naked and willing and so fucking ready before him. "Spread your legs. Wide open, baby. Let me see your pretty little pussy."

And when she did, he saw her bare lips, already soaked, and the sight of her perfect pink slit as it opened just for him.

"You're so fucking wet, aren't you?" he rasped, forcing himself not to bury his tongue and fingers inside her. "How long have you been this way, baby? How long have you been this ready for me? All night? Or were you like this yesterday? Because I was fucking hard for you yesterday. Did you know that? Did you know that I stood in your bathroom yesterday wanting to stroke my cock because the sight of you bent over in your kitchen made me feel like a goddamn teenager?"

"Oh, god," she moaned. "Please."

"Please, what, Bella?"

"Just…please…"

He wanted to give in and just give her what he knew she wanted, but he couldn't stop talking.

"Were you like this when I called you last night? Were you thinking about me while you were lying in this bed? Because I was hard. I was hard – and you know what else? Calling you wasn't a mistake. I called you on purpose, hoping to hear your voice just the way it was. And then you know what I did? I fucking jacked off in my own bed thinking about you…thinking about this. And my imagination was nowhere near as good as your reality."

And then, because he just couldn't stand it anymore, Edward buried his face between her legs with a groan, and took the first long lick of her pussy.

Bella thought she hear herself scream. But she couldn't be sure. And not because she wasn't the kind of woman who ever screamed, but because the sensation of his slippery lips and tongue sliding over her clit was all she could think about.

But that was the thing, wasn't it?

She wasn't even thinking.

She was feeling.

And what she was feeling was building and burning at the centermost point of everything she was. She couldn't even open her eyes. Couldn't even take a breath, for fear that she would somehow wake up in her bed only to find that all of this was just a dream.

It had to be a dream, didn't it?

Men didn't lick you like this. They didn't press their nose and face and mouth against your sex like it was water and lap at you like they were dying of thirst. And they certainly didn't lick their way down and fuck you with their tongue.

And oh, god…that's exactly what he was doing.

He was fucking her with his tongue.

But then, there was more. There was the way he pulled back just a little – just long enough to spread her open with his fingers. The way she could feel his hot breath against her wet, exposed sex while he said the filthiest, most embarrassing things like, "I knew you'd be this sweet, baby. I knew that once I got a taste of this juicy pussy, I'd never want anything else."

And then he just fucked into her with his long finger. Or was it fingers? She couldn't be sure. She was only sure as he said, "You're so tight, sweet girl. How are you this fucking tight right now?" That part was true. She _was_ tight. She could feel the stretch and burn as he opened her up as he fucked her. As she fucked herself against his hand, she could only imagine what she must look like. All spread open as he touched her, pushing her thighs down into the bed to keep her that way.

And somehow, even in the moment, lost as she was to him, she realized something.

She needed to be kept.

Just like this – held down and shameless – and by a man who was strong enough to keep her there.

She opened her eyes because she had to, because she couldn't go another second without seeing him. And he was looking at her as he held her open, and she saw what could only be described as pure, unadulterated need and desire in his eyes.

And then, those same eyes, with that _same _expression looked up at her, and he said, "Are you there, baby? Are you close?" And then he pushed in hard and long and deeper than she was expecting, causing her to topple over the edge with a scream she couldn't deny, as he panted and said, "That's it, Bella. Come all over my fingers. Because I'm ready for you to take my cock."

Edward fumbled back, basically crawling to his jeans to find a condom. He couldn't even walk, couldn't think about anything other than the way she'd looked and sounded when she came. And Jesus, they way she felt clenching around his fingers as her pussy sucked them all the way inside.

He'd been cocky when he'd first met her. Knowing he could make her come. But what he'd never expected was the way she'd made him come completely undone. The way he needed to make her feel that way again, sound that way again.

And again.

And as many times as she'd fucking let him.

When he got back to the bed, the sight of her naked, but not completely spent made his aching cock even harder than it had been all night. And she just reached for him, like it was nothing, like she'd been reaching for him her whole life. And he fucking wanted her to reach for him like that. To look at him with eyes that just knew he could give her everything she wanted.

And wasn't that exactly what he told her he would do?

He crawled between her legs, his hands rubbing up and along her thighs. Her pussy was covered in her come and his spit. It was deep pink and swollen and Christ, it looked fucked…and still fucking aroused.

"You still want me?" he murmured, leaning down to kiss her. She moaned into his mouth and he loved the idea that she was tasting herself on his tongue, smelling herself on his face that he would've happily buried between her legs again. "Because it looks like you do. It looks like your stiff little clit is just begging to be sucked again."

She whimpered and arched her soft, body against him. Her curves taking the shape, and accepting every angle of his own. Yes, Edward had always loved the feeling of a woman against him – but he never expected to love it this much.

And that's when it hit him.

Bella wasn't just any woman.

And his attraction and connection to her wasn't just about some long-established kink to be with someone older.

"But as much as I want to do that," he told her, running the tip of his finger along her wet, little slit, "as much as I'm probably gonna do it again later…I promised you my cock. And right now, it's aching to finally feel what it's like to be inside you."

He tore the corner of the wrapper with his teeth and placed the condom on her belly. "Put it on me. I want to watch you roll it on my dick."

She hesitated just for a moment – just long enough for him to urge, "Go on, baby…do it."

And then she did. She took it from the wrapper, sliding it up as far as it would go on the length of his cock. And then she surprised the shit out of him by jacking it just a little with her warm hands.

"What are you doing to me, baby?" he rasped, almost unable to stop himself from coming. "Do you even know? Do you have any fucking idea what you're doing to me?"

And with the most sincere eyes, she looked at him and said, "Just what you told me."

"Oh, god…oh, Bella, baby…" He leaned down, taking her breast in his mouth, sucking hard on her tight nipple. "How do you want me? Do you want it like this with me on top of you?"

"Yes," she told him, gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. "I want you. Just like this."

He'd never been so crazy with need in his life. Not once – not ever. And with a desperation that reflected that need, he reached between them, grabbing his cock and sliding it between her lips, and into her wet and equally needy hole.

He shuddered, crying out as he filled her. "Jesus, baby. I knew you'd be tight and wet, but not like this," he panted, unable to stop thrusting, unable to give her even a second to get used to his thick cock inside her. "Not like a fist around my cock."

If she minded, he couldn't tell.

If he was hurting her, he would never have known.

But as he settled into a rhythm, he thought that maybe she was fine. Maybe she wanted it exactly the way he was giving it to her. He pushed up so he could see it – he needed to see what his dick looked like sliding inside her, fucking her. What she looked like spread open and taking his cock.

"Do you know what this looks like, baby?"

She gripped him harder, arching up to meet him, her whimpers and moans making him even crazier.

"I only know what it feels like."

Oh, god.

"What does it feel like?"

And just like that, just like nothing at all, she gave it to him. "Full…ugh…and tight….and deep. So good, Edward…you feel so good."

How was she this perfect?

How did she fit him like a glove – all velvet and soft like she was made just for him?

Edward's thrusts became more frantic; he could feel his cock swelling and surging inside her. She was breathing hard, her own movement frenzied and intense.

"Oh, god, baby…I'm gonna… Tell me what you need."

"Just…oh," she panted, as he reached between them and found her clit. Her circled and pressed with his fingers, fucking her hard…hard…so fucking hard. Her body seized as she called out his name. And he kissed her as deep as his thrusts while her pussy milked and came all over his dick.

He pulled out, trembling and still not done.

"Look at me," he said, pulling the condom off. He knew what he wanted to do, but he didn't know if she wanted it, too. But as he stroked his cock, she watched, and he knew. "Where you do want it?"

"You already know."

"Fuck," he hissed, grabbing the strand of pearls around her neck and yanking hard. He didn't care that they went flying, he only cared about the way she looked as he covered her beautiful breasts with his come.

.

.

.

Bella was still the kind of woman who wore twin-sets and pearls while making dinner. She was still the kind of woman who wore Chanel perfume. Only now she wore Allure because it had _always_ been her favorite. She was also the same woman who valued the perfectly perpendicular lines from the last time she vacuumed, but if she was being honest, she didn't vacuum nearly as often as she used to. And yes, Bella still appreciated the way a bottle of Barolo paired sublimely with her flawless mushroom risotto.

Some things never change.

But the view in front of her perfect suburban home in the perfect gated community had changed. Because now, sitting in her driveway next to her impeccably maintained Volvo sat an old beater truck filled with power-tools. And coming in and out at all hours of the day was a man who some would assume was far too young to be respectable, and that the quality of her perfect life had most definitely gone downhill.

It certainly appeared so.

But that's the thing about appearances.

They're often quite deceiving.

.

.

.

**Reviews are love.**

**Thank you for reading. And thank you to everyone who voted for this in the Dirty Talkin' Edward Contest.**

**Thank you to MagTwi78 and JiffSimpson for selecting this as their favorite.**

**Marvar is amazing, and I couldn't do this without her. She takes my words and helps me make them pretty. And honestly, you guys…she's the most wonderful woman in the world.**

**My prereaders – Jaime, Kourt and Laura – I love you all like mad. Thank you for supporting me and encouraging me. I only hope I'm as good to you as you all are to me.**


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